


Blood of Her Enemies

by TheManSings



Category: Shameless (US), Shameless - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 09:54:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheManSings/pseuds/TheManSings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Have you ever been to a frat party? Because the floors are sticky and the alcohol is lacking and Mickey wants to leave but what's leaving if Ian stays?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood of Her Enemies

Maybe it’s because they’d grown up where they did – always looking over their shoulders waiting for someone or something to catch up with them. You’ve gotta be fast-- already somewhat in a constant state of running to stay alive in a life like that. He can remember Debbie complaining about it once when she was younger. _Ian slow down you’re walking too fast – Ian I’m tired. Ian I’m going home._

She walks fast now too, it’s inevitable.

And Mickey for all his active attempts at not giving a shit about anything was probably the fastest of them all.

“C’mon Mick.” Ian turned back scuffing his sneakers against the sidewalk and he could feel the tension radiating off the other man in crashing waves. He would be the one getting pulled under for this. It was his idea; he had dragged them out when they could have been fucking.

Mickey brought the cigarette burning down between his fingers back up to his mouth. “I’m coming jesus fuck—“ The pack that had been nearly half full at the start of their walk now down to only two and soon to be one as he stubbed out the burning embers under his shoe. “Where’s the fucking rush?”

“There’s no rush I just want to get their maybe before it’s over.”

He flipped him off bunching his shoulders up in agitation. Blue eyes roamed in darted jumps of nerves he’d never openly admit to because _fuck you I ain’t scared of some pussy ass frat boys_.

At least that’s what he’d said the day before when Ian decided mid thrust would be the best time to bring up the party.  The sound of his shocked and avid stance against going being choked on a moan the only saving grace to the situation. Because he was lucky Mickey was too far-gone to stop and turn around and land a punch.

It was a well thought out moment of invitation.

 

“Why the fuck do you even want to go?”

“Why do you not want to go so badly?” Ian asked incredulous before shaking his head and letting his palms slap against his legs in surrender. “You know what never mind let’s just go.”

“No wait—“ Mickey’s arm reached as a guy stumbled sloppy with a thirty held protectively under his grasp. His eyes mostly swimming with alcohol landed on the hand reaching out to Ian. His mouth screwed up in a wet pathetic attempt at a whistle before saluting them both and turning toward the building they should have been in 30 minutes ago.

Ian arched a brow waiting for the other shoe to drop—the final nail in Mickey’s coffin of _I don’t want to do this._

He clenched his jaw curling his lips and baring glaringly white teeth. It was the same face he made that night that Ian had him come over for dinner with Fiona. The grimace that comes with shoving down your own desires for those of someone else and feeling that slow burn descend. Because it’s a double sided sword, you’re gonna lose if you lose and you’re gonna lose harder if they do.

So Mickey twirled his second to last cigarette around between his fingers a few more times before shoving it back into his pocket. His eyes burning holes into the door and Ian smiled a bit smugly because there was no arguing it.

This was all for him.

 

The building was plain, almost painfully ordinary. No décor either shitty or classy existed and it provided an unsettling feeling of concrete walls. Like a prison cell or some fucked up mating zone.

Ian had been to parties, plenty of parties. Arguably, you’ve never been to a real party until you do it in the Southside but this was different. This was – _frenzied_. A mess of bodies packed too tightly yet still trying to dance like anyone could really move or let alone see. The lights blinking in and out in flashes of strobe that somehow still looked cheap. He could practically see the poor bastard sent out for a supply run going to every convenience store getting more and more desperate at the lack of stock. _Please you don’t understand I’m just a pledge._

“The floor is sticky.” Mickey deadpanned.

Ian laughed leaning over and whispering into his ear. “Since when do you not like to get a little bit sticky?”

Mickey leaned in letting his breath dance dangerously close against his lips. “My shoes are sticking to the floor.” He pulled back half surprised assuming the conversation would have gone more south in the good kinda way. “Asshole.”

They made their way around picking at various drinks and skimming weed from prep school shits who just had to _look_ at Mickey to be scared. He supposed that was probably a smart defensive however, beats the alternative fists.

Mandy’s body hummed with vibrations from the bass as she flung herself into Ian’s arms, legs wrapping around the waist and all. “I was worried you weren’t gonna show!” He could feel the smile against his cheek.

“What and miss seeing you two strangers?” He reached out to smack Lip’s arm. “Lookin good bro.”

“That’s a bit gay.” His brother smiled back before silently passing Mickey the joint interlaced between his fingers. “Look a bit stressed there Mickey.”

“He hates frats.”

Mandy dropped down turning to her brother and greeting with only her middle finger. “You’ve never been to a frat.”

Mickey scoffed turning his shoulder in against the sweat of a girl’s long blonde hair whipping him in the face. “You don’t have to go to a frat to know you hate them.” Ian could see how his shirt was now darker in a patch she’s brushed. Sweat 1, Mickey 0.

Lip slunk an arm around Mandy’s waist pulling her close but froze as she whacked a ringed hand against his chest.

“See! I told you look right there—“ Her long finger pointed mercilessly toward one of the blonde’s friends.

“Her ass?” Mickey quipped taking another long hit before Ian grabbed the rest for himself. His face left astonished and somewhat offended allowing for his mouth to form only a tiny ‘o’ at the theft.

“No her nails.”

Lip stared at her incredulously as if there was a second head speaking and it looked like Karen. “You’re serious right now? You’re still fucking going on about this.”

Mandy set her features firm squinting both her eyes as if somehow that’d make her see better. And it just occurred to Ian in that moment that it was actually really ridiculous for people to pick up that habit because aren’t you only halving your vision? Wouldn’t squinting make you see less?

“Her nails make the whole outfit. Mine are lacking and if I’d only been told the right time originally—“ She returned the glare to Lip’s eyes. “We wouldn’t be having this problem right now would we?”

“Mandy I don’t think anyone’s gonna notice that your nails aren’t painted.” Ian smirked hip checking her and laughing loudly at the way her body flung like a ragdoll. No matter her wrath, you couldn’t deny the girl was tiny.

Mickey’s mouth twitched into a smile and even though Ian couldn’t really see it, he could feel the way the man’s muscles relaxed just a bit. Just enough to let him know that this wasn’t a complete disaster waiting to happen – maybe just a temper tantrum of one.

 

The floor _was_ sticky. Ian felt each suction against his shoe with every step wondering how exactly it got that way. It couldn’t just be the sweat. It had to be more, had to be –

“Semen.” Mickey interrupted his musings while grabbing at a bottle of whiskey meant to be kept at the makeshift bar. “I bet there’s just jizz fucking everywhere in here. You need one of those lights that they use on that cop show.”

That cop show, like he was really thinking about a specific one. “Black light?” He answered.

“Yea, yea. Black light. You get a black light in here,” Mickey unscrewed the cap taking a swig before pouring the amber liquid down Ian’s throat too. “Semen _everywhere_.”

He brushed him off feeling how they were closer now. Pressing into every inch of skin and lingering with their touches – the beginning of an inevitable exit meant for bigger and better things. “You wish there was semen everywhere.”

Mickey leaned in close licking a small patch of skin under Ian’s jaw. The spot he knows makes him shiver and he had to reach out hands against the shorter man’s hips holding him steady.

“Only if it’s yours.”

A body flung hard into the table next to them causing 90% of the drinks to fall. Mickey wrapped his hand tighter around the bottle he’d already stolen as if now he was a target – last bottle standing or something along those lines.

“What the fuck?” He stepped back before looking toward the direction of a crowd now forming further into the room. His hand jutting out to grab a hold of Ian, “Mandy—“

It was funny how the younger Milkovich had turned into the worst type of mutual panic button. Each one of them—himself, Mickey, Lip, all she needed to do was scream and they’d be there in seconds flat.

Even funnier that they were the cause of nearly all her reasons to scream.

But she stood now with her shoulders hunched and back bent so far over one nudge would have her spilling. Her hands placating and almost desperate inching closer and closer to the brawl unfolding before her.

Fists poking out from the group of 4 guys only to disappear again in connection to someone’s face. And there in the thick of it, the one struggling to gain any sort of ground let alone the upper hand – there was Lip.

Ian flung himself over the back of the guy playing cheap and holding his brother’s arms locked behind him. Ian’s own arms now looking for karmic payback as he hooked the guy’s neck in a hold you had to tap out of. Mandy’s words of pleading, of a truce and _please let’s just go_ being lost against Mickey’s asking of if she felt like her words were working.

Mickey’s own guy who now also looked a bit blue in the face turned around with a moment of opportunity spotted the second Mandy screamed at him to _get the hair gel out of his brain_.

And it would have almost been priceless to see the look of utter annoyance cross his face had Ian not also seen the way his neck snapped painfully forward with the force of a cheap blow to the head.

He thought Mandy might be crying and really he’d never heard her ask people to stop killing each other so nicely before. All she wanted was for her boys, all three of them to leave in one relatively non-bloody piece.

As Mickey turned ready to deliver the final hit before succumbing to his sister’s panic a stream of word reached out slapping all four of them in the face.

The cheap shot pulled a gruesome sneer before spitting blood onto the ground and raising eyes colder than a snakes. “Get the fuck off me you fucking _faggot_.”

The air stilled and even though Ian could still hear the drum of the music blasting at a steady beat, it felt quiet. Like a pin had dropped and echoed reverberating inside each person’s chest.

He held his breath watching Mickey stand and _stare_. It’s like when a child falls scraping their leg and just before all hell breaks loose and the screaming wails wrack through their chest they just – still for a moment. Their eyes going wide and wondrous like they’re truly amazed any harm had come their way.

But before the calm could fade to the storm Mandy ran full force screaming _maniacally_.

Her hand came up clawing across the mans face digging hard and allowing for three deep gashes to glow sporadically under the lights. She looked like a monster in stop motion. Each flash of the strobe showing some exquisite new form of how she desired to inflict the most amount of pain.

“You piece of frat boy pussy _shit!_ ” She screeched now using her legs as leverage to dig the heels 3 inches high into his shins.

Lip now wrapping his arms fully around her body pulled her flailing from the unsuspecting victim. The only thing missing was frothing at the mouth.

 

It took them all pushing through the crowd, 5 large sips of whiskey and being at least 100 yards away from the building before Mandy stopped screaming. It took 3 in-depth _repeat after me_ promises to not cause bodily harm before Mickey took her off his shoulder.

6 ‘ _fucking fucks’_ before she could say any other word and Ian felt like he was living that 12 th day of Christmas carol.

“So let me get this straight,” Lip started. “You get mad at me for picking a fight with the douchebag who damn near shoved his hand up your fucking vag but you go American psycho on some asshole who says the word faggot?”

“Yes.” She clenched her fists looking down and away from the older Gallagher before letting out a gasp. “My nails—“

“Oh my god—“

“No shut up.” Mandy held up her hands slowly exhibiting the way each finger now glimmered a varying degree of simmering red. “What that—“

Mickey leaned over letting his weight sink into Ian’s shoulder. His breath having evened out was now only the heavy intake of ‘ _let’s get out of here.’_

He fished around for that cigarette now crumpled and sad looking before letting out a defeated sigh. “Can we just go?”

Ian nudged his face offering a small smile and nodding. Lip now standing a good few feet back from Mandy as she walked in a huff radiating purpose and rage turned to follow as well. And he could understand the precaution, the volatility of loving a Milkovich who’s not afraid to go down swinging in a way you thought wasn’t even capable.

And just because Mickey was blinking stupidly slow in attempts to stay away before finding a bed to curl up in didn’t mean his sister was anywhere near placated for the night. Didn’t mean she still wasn’t a threat to any one person stupid enough to piss on what she loved. After all— 

Her nails were painted red with the blood of her enemies. 


End file.
